


Angeli Glaciei

by JensenAckles13



Category: Avengers, Beauty and the Beast (1991), Frostiron - Fandom, Marvel, Thor - Fandom
Genre: AU, Angst, Beauty and the Beast AU, But try it and you might like it, Ficlet, I know, It sounds cheesy, Jotun!Loki, Loki Needs a Hug, M/M, Tony Likes Giving Hugs, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 17:16:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2356277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JensenAckles13/pseuds/JensenAckles13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark was never said to have common sense. <br/>Of course, everyone had some semblance of common sense, but he was fairly certain he’d just been born without.  <br/>That was likely the reason he was trapped in a god damn castle in the middle of fuck town and nowheresville. <br/>Given, there was a multitude of could be’s, but he was perfectly content with blaming it on his lack of common sense (no, he most definitely hadn’t been curious about the castle but fuck, he totally had been).  <br/>Naturally, if one came across a castle in the middle of the woods in god knows where, and said castle had wrought-iron fencing surrounding it like a giant ‘keep out’ sign, they would turn tail and ditch. <br/>Of course, when you were Tony Stark, you yanked on the gates with metal encased hands until they opened.<br/>And then you would proceed to enter said castle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angeli Glaciei

_“For who could ever learn to love a beast?”_

Tony Stark was never said to have common sense.   
Of course, everyone had some semblance of common sense, but he was fairly certain he’d just been born without.    
That was likely the reason he was trapped in a god damn castle in the middle of fuck town and nowheresville.   
Given, there was a multitude of could be’s,but he was perfectly content with blaming it on his lack of common sense _(no, he most definitely hadn’t been curious about the castle but fuck, he totally had been)._

Naturally, if one came across a castle in the middle of the woods in god knows where, and said castle had wrought-iron fencing surrounding it like a giant ‘keep out’ sign, they would turn tail and ditch.   
Of course, when you were Tony Stark, you yanked on the gates with metal encased hands until they opened. And even when the metal suit you were in disassembled _itself_ upon entering the gates, and said gates slammed shut behind you, you carried on _(without testing the gates again, thank you very much)_ and proceeded to go _inside_ the castle because inside was better than outside where the snow was, and the air was and the _nature_ was.   
So, you’ve gotten this far; getting the door open was a bit more difficult than you’d actually thought _(it was legit stone. The fucking door was granite or some shit like that)_ , and it took a few tries because you didn’t have the extra strength the suit would’ve so thoughtfully supplied.    
And then you’re through the door _(stumbling because that last heave against the rock sent you reeling)_ , and ta-da; you’ve completed Tony Starks Guide to Breaking and Entering Castles.   
Alright, so maybe there were a few more swear words involved _(not that that’s at all surprising)_ and maybe his ‘reeling’ was more of a face plant into the ground, but eh, semantics.

The first thing Tony noticed was the dusty chandelier hanging above him; something, he could tell, that had once been a gorgeous crystal piece but was now dirty and dusty from disuse. And then he noticed the faded red carpet beneath his feet that led straight ahead to two grand stair cases, one on either side of the large room.  
There was no electric light, only candle light and it really wasn’t much warmer in here, though it _was_ a nice change to the below freezing temperatures outside _(now it was slightly_ above _freezing)_.   
The candles lined the walls in rusted silver holders, so he did the only thing he could think of; he followed the candles.   
They led him upstairs _(and while he could’ve gone either way, he chose left)_ , down the hall _(honestly, there had to be at least ten doors down this hallway and probably down the other as well)_ , and to a single door at the very end of the hallway.   
Luckily, this door was wood so he simply needed to push it open _(there was no shoulder ramming needed)_.   
He proceeded to stare for a good five minutes, taking it all in.   
Books. Hundreds upon hundreds of books just _waiting_ to be read.   
Shelf upon shelf of them lined the walls, from floor to ceiling, wall to wall; he could just _imagine_ them all waiting to give him their knowledge, and he knew he would take greedily.   
A grand fireplace was set into one wall _(a fire already roaring beautifully inside)_ , more shelves and more books on either side of it and above it and _holy fuck_ he was having a total nerdgasm right now.   
A few leather chairs that looked like they hadn’t been used in years were strewn around the room; he grabbed one immediately and dragged it over to the fire place, picking a random book off a shelf as he went.   
He plopped himself down in the dusty old chair, drawing his legs to his chest and taking in the heavenly warmth, opening the book without bothering to check what it was first.

Okay, so maybe he should’ve checked the _rest_ of the castle to make sure he was alone, but with this entire place at his disposal _(this being the library, as he didn’t actually go anywhere else)_ , he’d been too amazed to do much of anything, let alone force himself out of the library, away from the fire and off to search through the rest of the above freezing castle.   
If Tony _had_ checked, perhaps he would’ve seen him before he was actually there.   
A low, guttural voice like shattering glass rang from the shadows the fire cast.

“Why are you here, mortal?”

If Tony would’ve seen him before he’d heard him, perhaps he wouldn’t have reacted as he did; as it was, he _hadn’t_ seen him before he’d heard him.   
The book fell to the stone floor, slapping too loudly against it in the silence that had fallen.   
Tony was on his feet in seconds, closest to the fire and _(fuck)_ farthest from the door.

He couldn’t make out any details; all he got was a shadow, and even then, the shadow seemed more terrifying than the figure could ever be. The person appeared to be tall, towering well over six feet, aided by the horns _(yes, you heard right)_ curving atop his head. Some sort of mantle tumbled down broad shoulders, and clawed hands flexed and curled. And then the figure stepped into the firelight and Tony was fairly certain he’d stopped breathing; mile long, leather clad legs, slim waist, sculpted shoulders, mantle made of what looked like wolves fur falling down his back and brushing the floor, and skin the color of- blue. His skin was blue, cobalt with intricate designs the color of ice chasing down his face and beneath the high golden collar of his shirt. God, his eyes…crimson; the color of blood, or maybe roses. The shadows from the fire danced across his lithe body, both shadowing him in darkness and illuminating him in light.   
Whoever he was, he was terrifyingly beautiful and Tony didn’t know whether he wanted to try to run or ask to stay; he’d never seen someone so horrifyingly elegant and it was breathtaking.

“Uh, I…it was a castle and…I’m an inventor which means…” He took a slow breath and let it out, calming his fraying nerves. “I’m a man of science, and that makes me a naturally curious creature, so when I find a castle that looks like Harry Potter once lived in it, I’m gonna come inside.”  
The man blinked at him a few times, clawed hands in fists at his sides, head tilted as if he were trying to figure out some ridiculously difficult algorithm.

“You have trespassed; now, you will stay.” Without another word, the man turned on his heel and strode out.   
Tony gaped at him for all of two seconds before scrambling after him, catching hold of the mantle before he could leave.

“Wait! For how long?” Tony asked, fearing he already knew the answer and hoping he didn’t.   
The man turned slowly, calmly prying the fur from Tony’s white knuckled grip, crimson eyes latching onto Tony’s.

“Forever.”

*

Tony had been throwing things at the door for over an hour now, but to no avail.   
The guy- Loki, Tony had learned- had disappeared down the hall with a warning of “do not go into the west wing”. Of course, the hall he went down lead to the west wing, so really, it was Loki’s fault for going up there _(as if he didn’t know Tony would follow…okay, so maybe he hadn’t, but he should’ve. Tony had warned the guy about his insatiable curiosity)_.   
Loki had gone down the hall to the west wing, up another set of stairs and through a door at the end; a door, might he add, that was locked.   
So Tony had spent fifteen minutes yelling, another twenty gathering any object he could find and this last hour throwing said objects at the door; but, it seemed, either Loki was a very patient man or he was plotting a way to kill Tony without really letting him know what he was doing until he was dead.

It was subtle at first; the chill to the air, his breath fogging out before him, the frost crawling along the walls. But the colder it got, the more he felt it and the faster he realized something was very, very wrong.   
The last object to go flying was a candle holder, but this time it sailed through an open door and that voice yelled;

“ _ENOUGH!_ ”

And then Loki was stalking out, ice clinging to his hands, eyes blazing.   
Tony stumbled backwards so fast that his foot missed a step and for a moment everything seemed to freeze; his heart throbbed and his stomach lurched and oh _god_ he was falling- and then he wasn’t, an icy hand shooting out and long, clawed fingers curling around his wrist, stopping his decent before it had even properly started.   
He was yanked forward against a solid wall of muscle and cold, held safely away from the edge of the ragged granite stairs and he could breathe again.   
The arms yanked away as fast as they’d held, and Tony blinked up at Loki, staring because he could and because Loki seemed just as confused as Tony, though, it seemed, for an entirely different reason.   
Loki was staring at his hand like it wasn’t attached to his body, brow furrowed, lips slightly parted, eyes wide and awed.   
“I touched you,” Loki whispered, voice rough.

“Oh god, are you fangirling?” Tony asked, slightly horrified.   
Loki glanced sharply up at him, and reached out, taking Tony’s hand in his own, movements short and hesitant, as if he’d forgotten how to touch someone. Clawed fingers traced along the lines of his palm, the calluses roughening his hands, the scars from when his usually nimble fingers had failed him.

“ _Incredible_ ,” Loki breathed, eyed fixed on their joined hands, seemingly entranced; Tony didn’t know the significance behind this but clearly there was some, and he intended to find out, but stayed silent in fear of breaking whatever spell had taken over.   
As it was, Tony could’ve spoken because the moment was over as fast as it had come; Loki was pulling away, shuttering his eyes and closing off his face like he’d done it a million times before. Who knew, maybe he had.   
“What is it you needed?” Loki asked, voice not quite as sharp as it had been before.

“You said I had to stay forever; why?”

“No one leaves. Once you enter, you have lost all hope of ever leaving,” Loki said calmly, eyes finding Tony’s only briefly before dropping. “I would know; I have tried many times.”   
And then he was gone, disappearing back inside the door without so much as a backward glance.

Tony frowned at the closed _(and locked)_ door, trying to piece together everything that had just happened and _(unsuccessfully)_ trying to find the energy to go back down the stairs and find somewhere that wasnhere.

Instead, he sat with his head buried in his knees and breathed.

*

Plan ‘Great Escape’ _(he got very creative with his names)_ wasn’t going as well as he’d hoped it would be.   
The next day, he’d ended up being able to get the gates open once more and had only succeeded in getting about ten feet out before he’d heard an absolutely _terrifying_ roar sound somewhere in the trees and the snowy ground beneath his feet shook with the force of _something’s_ footsteps.   
Needless to say, he’d never run so fast in his life, nor did he ever think he’d decide re-trapping himself would be a better alternative than trying to do something _useful_ beyond his prison walls, like, say, escaping.   
No, for the moment _(and probably all the moments after)_ , remaining inside the barred gates of the castle seemed to be the best option.   
As he couldn’t exactly leave _(in fear of being eaten by some unknown beast)_ , it was the third day that he set to work trying to fix his suit. Of course, soon he couldn’t feel his fingers or toes, so he made quick work of dragging the heavy suit inside the castle, to the library he had dubbed his own, and as near to the fire as he could get without melting the metal or burning himself.   
Naturally, he accidentally did a bit of both; while reaching blindly for one of the gauntlets for his suit, he may or may not have reached just a bit too far to the right and he may or may not have stuck his hand directly in the fire.   
Surely his shout of pain would’ve drawn the attention of Loki, but the guy didn’t appear to be coming down to make sure Tony hadn’t accidently killed himself _(falling down the stairs, probably, as that seemed to be something he’d already almost done once)_.   
And then, while hastily retreating his hand from the fire _(and his entire body, you know, just in case the fire decided to try and eat him)_ , he accidently kicked said gauntlet into the fire.   
So now he was even more fucked than he had been when he’d first decided to _enter_ the castle _(or even the gates)_ and he was missing one of his flight stabilizers so he couldn’t actually navigate properly when he flew because he didn’t have anything on his right side to _stabilize_ his _flight_.

“If I cannot trust you around the fire, I will douse it,” a voice suddenly spoke up behind him.   
Tony jerked, cradling his hand to his chest, turning to scowl at the oversized smurf behind him.

“If you’d turn the god damn heating on, we wouldn’t need the fire _anyways_ ,” Tony shot back and no, he was _not_ pouting.

“The heating stopped working years ago,” Loki replied with a shrug, andjust how _long_ had the guy been here?

“There _is_ a genius sitting not five feet from you; why don’t you show him where it is and ask him to fix it?” Tony thought for a moment. “Another thing; how old are you?”

Loki tilted his head to the side, regarding him with cautious eyes.

“Not a smart thing to ask your prison warden,” Loki said calmly.

“Is that what you are?”

“It could be.”

“But it’s not,” Tony finished, eyes staying on Loki’s.

Loki bit his lip before conceding. “It is not.”

Tony nodded, watching the man closely, and wondered _(not for the first time)_ just how long he’d been here, and even more so, how long he’d been here _alone (though he was fairly certain he’d be castrated with a rusty spoon if he asked, but then, no one had ever told him he’d had good ideas)_. Still, maybe it would be unfair to put Loki on the spot like that _(though when Tony had started caring about things like_ that _, he didn’t know)_ , and maybe Loki would hate him even more than he already seemed to, and Tony really didn’t need that right now.   
Another question popped into his mind; how far into his escape attempt had Loki actually gotten? Maybe if they teamed up _(right, Tony in a team? Can you spell ‘chaos’?)_ they’d have double the chance, as it was double the people.   
Alright, so he had _way_ too many questions for his own good, most of which he was fairly certain would get him thrown out in the snow for that _thing_ in the woods to eat, so he stayed _(mostly)_ silent and just watched until Loki seemed to grow uncomfortable and his gaze shuttered once more.

“If you are well, I will take my leave.” And leave he did, turning on his heel before Tony could even pretend he wasn’t going to call out and ask him to stay.   
It had only been three days, and Tony was fairly certain he was already going insane; it was too quiet, too little noise aside from the occasional crumbling of a stone pillar or the roar of the beast outside _(and sometimes Loki’s roar inside)_. Tony was used to hearing the tinkering of his machines or the clink of ice against glass or the crash of the waves hitting the rocks. He wasn’t used to this; to silence and solitude and the inability to leave; he got antsy if he stayed in one place too long and often flew between New York and Malibu simply because he _could_ and he _wasn’t_ limited _(or forced to stay)_ in one place.   
So yes, as unstable as he already was, the silence was getting to him more than any of the destructive sounds ever could and the solitude was worse than Loki’s company.    
Maybe that was what drove him to climb the stairs to the west wing.   
Honestly, it wasn’t the best decision but he didn’t really care because he never made the best decisions _anyways_ , so it just added to his long lasting streak of bad ideas that sometimes turned into good things and he really hoped that was the case this time around.   
Of course, life really seemed to hate him.   
He knocked _(pounded)_ on the door for a solid five minutes, waiting not so patiently for Loki to answer, or maybe turn the hallway into a freezer again, but nothing happened and he realized Loki wasn’t _going_ to answer so he just turned the knob and pushed.    
It took a minute for his eyes to adjust _(because apparently the guy was allergic to light)_ , but when they did, he realized Loki wasn’t actually in the room and he’d just wasted five minutes knocking when he could’ve been snooping instead.   
There weren’t any animal heads stuck to the walls and it wasn’t some indoor igloo like he’d been expecting.   
No, there wasn’t really anything out of the ordinary; books were stacked on a shelf in one corner of the room _(because smurfs got bored too)_ and the bed looked big enough to fit Loki and four other people, a pile of warm furs thrown haphazardly over the bed. A fire roared away in the fireplace on the left wall, and a round table sat in front of it and on top of the table sat- oh. That was definitely out of the ordinary.   
On top of the table, in a bell jar, a white rose was floating _(yes, you heard correctly; floating, hovering, however you’d like to say it, it was doing it)_ , all of the petals except for the three still attached lying dead on the table within the glass, a soft golden light glowing around it like some sort of halo.   
Wide eyes latched onto it and his hand moved forward without him telling it to, lifting the glass off of the rose.   
His fingers moved toward the rose, fingertips just brushing the white, golden surface-  
-but didn’t get any further as an outraged roar broke out behind him and a blast of icy air slammed into his chest, shoving him backwards, making him trip on the fur rug behind him.   
His eyes darted up, and there stood Loki, hair a wild mess, the fur mantle lying forgotten on the ground leaving him only in emerald green and gold and leather, his crimson eyes a blazing inferno, ice crawling up his arms and feet, crawling across the ground towards Tony; Loki had never looked more animal than he did then, never looked so absolutely _terrifying_.   
Tony’s heart leapt into his throat and he scrambled to his feet, shoes unable to find purchase on the icy ground and he _ran_.   
Another roar behind him and spikes of ice shot out in front of him, forcing him to dive to the side or be impaled.

“ _Never_ ,” that broken voice growled, low and haunting, so much more dangerous than if he’d been yelling. “let me catch you in here. _Never_!” And Tony knew Loki didn’t have to worry about that anymore.   
Tony ran and Loki followed, the ice creeping along the walls faster than Tony could run.   
He went to the only place he knew he could; the only place he’d felt safe since arriving; the library.   
His eyes darted around, mind running a mile a minute, desperately trying to find something, _anything_ that could protect him, but what _could_ protect him from a creature of ice?   
His eyes latched onto the fire and stayed; he was an ideas man after all.   
He rushed forward, grabbing a log of firewood from the floor next to the fireplace. He stuck it in the fire, waiting for it to light, before spinning around just as Loki came crashing in; he brandished the fire at Loki, inches away from the man; saw the way he froze like the ice he was created from.   
Both were breathing heavily, panting loud in the quiet that had fallen over the room, so silent that Death herself wouldn’t dare break it.   
They stared at each other, brown eyes locked onto red, the fire brandished between them, flames reflecting in their eyes.   
It was Loki who caved first, taking a slow breath before stepping back, away from the fire, the ice slowly receding from his hands and feet and anywhere else it had gone, the room fading back to its normal, natural cool.  
With the warmth of the fire at his back, he slowly lowered the flaming log and stuck it in the fire where it belonged, ready to get a new one should things go wrong, but it seemed Loki was calming, which meant Tony could too.

“Why were you in my bedroom?” Loki asked, broken voice calmer than it had been; neither yelling nor growling, back to its usual guttural roughness.

“I was curious,” Tony replied, shoulders still stiff and tense. “I wanted to know why I couldn’t go in the west wing.”

“And the best way you could think of figuring this out was by going into the very place you were told not to?” Loki asked with a disbelieving raise of his brows. “Wouldn’t it have been simpler to _ask_?”

“Depends,” Tony drawled, injured hand folded neatly atop his left. “Would you have answered?”

Loki opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “Likely not,” the man admitted.

“Then there’s your answer,” Tony replied, scooting closer to the fire, taking in the warmth.

Loki frowned but nodded, eyes getting faraway for a moment before snapping back to the present; to Tony.

“I will show you to the heating unit. You may fix it if you can.”   
Tony blinked at him for a few seconds before nodding and allowing himself to be led there- down the first set of stairs, down the second set of stairs and down a _third_ because apparently there _was_ a third, and probably a fourth hidden in the shower.   
The heating unit was old and definitely not Stark tech, but he’d do what he could _(and what he_ could _do was fix the damn thing)_. The tools sitting down there _(as if it had been waiting to be fixed all this time)_ were just as old as the unit, but they’d do the job and that was all that mattered.   
Loki left him alone after that, sparing him a tired look, almost mesmerized as Tony had picked up a screw driver and rolled it around in his palm like it belonged there, before disappearing up the stairs like he hadn’t been there at all.   
Tony stared after him for a moment, wondering what was running through that head of his, before doing what he did best; fixing what was broken.

*

The heating until didn’t take as long as Tony had been hoping it would.   
Two hours later, he was freed of the newly stifling room and wandering the castle like a homeless puppy.    
Upon realizing he had nothing to do, he decided to do the next best thing; drink until he forgot he ever _had_ been looking for something to do.   
On his explorations of the first day in his icy prison, he’d discovered a liquor cabinet and it had been calling his name _(quite adamantly)_ ever since he’d first found it.   
As it turned out, he wouldn’t be alone in his wallowing.   
Loki was already there _(possibly already drunk)_ , sprawled less than elegantly _(but still more graceful than Tony ever could be)_ in one of the large, velvet covered chairs, empty wine bottles strewn around him, long fingers curled delicately around a glass half filled with the deep red liquid _(the same long fingers that could just as easily shatter)_.

“Anthony,” Loki said in his broken voice, and Tony realized that was the first time the guy had ever said his name _(hell, he hadn’t even known the guy_ knew _his name)_. “You’ve come to join me?”

“Originally,” Tony replied. “It was just supposed to be me, myself and I and that cabinet there.” He motioned to the liquor cabinet. “

Loki laughed bitterly, the sound fading away as fast as it had come. “That’s all it is, these days. Silence and solitude.” And hadn’t that been exactly what Tony had been thinking? “Then, I suppose that’s all it _can_ be,” he continued. “In a castle made for a monster’s isolation.”   
He raised his glass in Tony’s direction before bringing it back to his lips, swallowing it all down in one go.

“The thing outside?” Tony questioned, grabbing himself a nice bottle of whiskey, forgoing a glass completely.

“Oh no,” Loki said morbidly, a bitter smile curving his lips _(like the Mona Lisa, Stark)_. “The thing inside.”

Tony frowned, bringing the uncapped bottle away from his lips, swallowing the wonderfully burning liquid and filling Loki’s glass instead.   
Loki drank the whiskey like it was water _(the same way Tony often caught himself doing and didn’t bother stopping)_ , eyes closing, fingers tightening around the glass with each swallow until Tony thought it would break; it was mesmerizing, watching Loki; watching the pull of his throat, the brush of his lashes against his cheeks, the sharpness of his claws against the fragile side of the glass, the drop of amber liquid clinging to his lower lip.   
Tony; stupid, reckless, self-destructive Tony, he carefully pulled the glass from the tight _(almost breaking but not quite)_ grip, replacing it with his hand instead. Those long fingers that could shatter chose to curl gently around Tony’s, claws pricking lightly at the soft skin of his palm, fingertips moving over the calluses they found there, the pad of his thumb gently creating a path across the delicate skin of Tony’s inner wrist.   
Strangely enough, Tony didn’t feel any fear; his pulse jumped and throbbed until he was sure Loki could hear his heartbeat, his breaths sped until Loki moved his eyes from Tony’s wrist to the glowing circle of light in his chest, and then to his face, eyes careful and tired and broken like he’d spent far too long fighting after he’d already given up.   
He didn’t know what it was that compelled him to reach out, but he did, his fingers finding Loki’s jaw, the pad of his thumb gently brushing away the drop of whiskey that still clung to his lower lip.   
He lost himself in that crimson gaze, his hands moving without him telling them to, cupping either sides of Loki’s face as he brought his lips down on those soft, cold ones.   
For a moment, there was no reaction and Tony feared he’d gone too far _(even though he hadn’t realized he’d been going anywhere at all)_ , but then Loki was kissing him back, hard and desperate like he hadn’t done it in so long that he was just remembering how, long fingers sliding beneath Tony’s shirt, claws scraping gently along his warm flesh, leaving lines of fire in their wake and Tony hissed in a breath, arching into that burning touch like a dying man _(maybe he was; maybe they both were)_.    
He wasn’t sure when they’d stumbled to the bedroom but he didn’t care; the bed was more than large enough for the pair of them and the fire was roaring away soundlessly, warming the room where they weren’t able to warm each other.  
Loki leaned down, pressed his lips to Tony’s forehead.

“How much can you take?” the man murmured softly, as if he were afraid of the answer but needed it anyways.

“ _Everything,_ ” Tony whispered and any pretense of caution was gone.   
Long fingers nimbly rid of his shirt _(claws curved towards his body, careful)_ , eyes locking onto the arc reactor before the man leaned down, pressing a kiss to the center before working his boots and jeans off, his boxers soon following. Loki ripped his clothes off like he didn’t care whether they would still be intact when he put them back on, but Tony found he wouldn’t have cared either.   
And then all he saw was miles of lean blue muscle, hovering above him, stretched out for him like he could have it all _(he knew he could)_.   
Loki took in every touch, every kiss, every breath like he hadn’t in too long and his body was just awakening, remembering everything it had already known; like he’d been touch starved for so long he forgot what it was like to feel, entranced by every touch in the way only an isolated man could be.   
It was slow work, rousing a body that had forgotten how to feel, but deeply satisfying and more than a little pleasurable on both parts; they moved together like they’d been made to _(and if Tony believed in fate, he would’ve said they had been)_ , leaning in for a brush of lips like they could read each other’s minds, Tony’s legs wrapping around Loki’s slim hips as Loki adjusted the angle and moved closer, thrusting himself deeper until they couldn’t possibly be two separate beings.   
It was slow, passionate; something neither of them thought they could possibly have again.   
Cool skin pressed against hot, scorching and freezing and so incredibly breathtaking that neither of them could figure out why they hadn’t done it sooner or when they could do it again.   
Tony’s release came too soon, his climax building slowly but ultimately too fast, with a cry uttered into Loki’s mouth, and Loki followed soon after, body going still and tense before collapsing at Tony’s side, limp and sweat soaked and absolutely beautiful.  

Tony rolled over, pressing his body up against Loki’s cooler one, arms winding around the man’s waist, burying his face in his neck, inhaling deeply; Loki smelled just like he tasted; like winter and ice and dying leaves.

“You gonna be able to sleep tonight?” Tony mumbled, eyes already falling shut _(without him telling them to, thank you very much)_.

“Have I not been?” Loki asked, sounding just as asleep as Tony was _(well, okay, almost was. Whatever)._

“Nope,” Tony replied without elaboration; Loki chuckled softly but nodded.

“Only if you do as well,” the man replied, resting his cheek atop Tony’s head.

“Don’t think that’s how it works, but I agree to your terms. Now sleep.” He felt a kiss being pressed to his cheek before the man laid his head back down and nodded. “G’night, Loki,” he said softly, blissful unconsciousness rushing him into a restful sleep.

“Goodnight, Anthony.”  

*

As it was, good things never lasted _(not for them)_ , and the wonders of last night had quickly dissipated into chaos.   
It had started simple, barely noticeable; a tremor in the air, but it had grown until Tony could barely hear himself think.   
He’d been sleeping _(rather peacefully)_ , protected in Loki’s arms, when he heard it and jolted awake, also waking Loki _(even if it was only an accident)_ , who’d been in a rather deep sleep.

“Did you…?” Tony asked, moving his eyes to Loki’s as the sound came again.

“I did,” Loki replied, crawling out of bed and dressing, while Tony scrambled to do the same, yanking on his boots, unlaced.   
It had to be early, maybe around one in the morning; the moon was still high, as he saw through the window, but it was hidden behind dark clouds, rain falling heavily outside.

“What is it?” he asked, hurrying to follow behind Loki as he strode towards the origin of the sound; it appeared to be coming from outside.   
Loki just glanced at him, a hard look in his eyes that Tony hadn’t seen before, something about that look telling him he should know- _oh_.   
Gunshots.   
He grabbed Loki’s arm, yanked him back when he tried to step out onto the balcony.   
“No,” he hissed, keeping the other back. “They’re probably here to ‘save’ me-”

“-and I will be seen as the thing that’s stopping them from doing so,” Loki finished, voice calm and broken, eyes tired.

Tony bit his lip before nodding and Loki sighed.   
“I will stay inside as long as you are careful,” the man said, giving Tony a hard look.

Tony nodded. “I will be.” And gave Loki a quick peck on the lips before stepping outside, rain soaking him almost immediately.   
“ _Stop shooting! It’s me!_ ” he yelled as he moved closer towards the edge of the balcony, and the sounds died down until he heard nothing but the rain hitting the stone.   
He saw Fury’s lips move, saw the “it’s Stark” just before the sound of a loading gun.   
He froze, eyes wide, and moved to step inside even though he knew it was too late anyways; he saw the flash of the muzzle, heard the crash of the bullet exiting the chamber, prepared himself to feel the pain that he knew would come-  
-but never did as blue streaked in front of him and something warm splattered across his face.   
Loki collapsed in front of him and Tony stared, suddenly unable to breathe, to think, do anything but stand there and stare as warm, dark blue blood poured from the bullet wound in Loki’s chest.   
He felt tears prick his eyes, his legs giving out, his body collapsing and still all he could do was stare, try to breathe past the heartbreak squeezing his throat in an iron fist, try to do something to hold back the sob that ripped it’s way past his lips anyways because _dammit_ he hadn’t even gotten to say he loved him.

“ _No_.”

The word slipped past his lips before he could stop it, but he knew he didn’t really want to, couldn’t have if he’d tried.

“Please,” he tried again as tears trailed down his cheeks. “ _No!_   _Please!_ ” he screamed, begging to anyone who would listen even though he knew damn well no one _was_ listening.   
He fell silent, defeated, hunched forward on his hands and knees, head bowed.

At first he didn’t see it, the golden light surrounding Loki’s body, but then it grew brighter until he had no choice; he looked up at the man, eyes widening upon seeing the golden light lifting him from the ground, surrounding him until Tony couldn’t see him any longer, glowing the same gold as the rose did, and then the light _exploded_.   
It exploded outward, blinding anyone who dared look.

It ended as fast as it had began, and when Tony could blink the spots from his vision he saw him; lying on the ground, all ivory skin and long black hair and…normal. No longer the blue skin or the claws or the horns; covered in clothes now too big, hanging off his smaller frame as he struggled to roll over and open his eyes and- oh. Oh, they were green- like the deepest shards of emerald shattered and put back together again exactly the right way.

“ _Loki?_ ” he whispered, wincing at the hope in his voice.

Those eyes darted to him.

“Anthony?”   
His voice wasn’t broken glass anymore.

And then Tony could breathe again.   
He dived at Loki, arms winding tightly around him, holding him close as he sobbed into his shoulder.

“Damn you,” he whispered as Loki’s arms wound around him.

“That’s not how you say it,” Loki murmured, gently nudging his chin until he looked into the man’s face.

“Say what?” Tony asked, wanting nothing more than to lean in the last few inches and press his lips to those soft looking pink ones in front of him.

“ _I love you_ ,” the man said.

Tony’s breath caught and hitched and he stared because god, Loki just said he _loved_ him and hadn’t Tony just been regretting not being able to tell him?

“Dammit, I love you too,” he breathed and leaned up, pressing his lips to those gorgeously soft ones presented before him.   
Funny how Loki still tasted like winter and ice and dying leaves.

Inside, the white rose sat in the bell jar, shimmering a brilliant gold, entirely whole once more. 

**Author's Note:**

> Angeli Glaciei- Angel of Ice in Latin
> 
> Thank you to anyone who read this! I'm actually pretty proud of this; it took me a bit because I'm not used to writing longerish short stories, and for me this was longer than my usual short stories.  
> I'd really love for you guys to tell me what you think and Kudos are awesome as well!  
> I know, i know I left out the ballroom scene....who knows, maybe it'll be a whole separate fic ;)


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